Coming back

It has been a long process for me coming back from this particular injury. It hasn’t gone as well as it did last summer when I had IT band issues, but my PT thinks that’s because it was never really about my  IT band and my gluteus. More likely, it was about several different muscles not activating correctly. First, my left abdominals were not activating fully, and my left leg was not doing the same share of the work as my right leg (this is where the gluteus actually comes in). After working for a few weeks to correct that, I went back, and she discovered that my right Psoas muscle was not activating to swing my right leg forward during my left stance. 

If you’ve read this blog for a while, you might remember that, two years ago or so, I had  scare where several doctors thought that I had appendicitis, but in fact I had pulled my right Psoas muscle. The assumption now is that it never “restarted” after that injury. 

On the plus side, that means I have an actionable issue that I can work on. Combined with working on my left stance and working on my foot strike (always), I’m hopeful that I can get back to full on training in the next month or so. At the moment, I am running up to three miles, 2 out of every 3 days (though I sadly missed today, I will make up for it tomorrow). 

For the first time, though, I am attempting to put together a general long-term training plan. I’m using a variety of resources for this process. At the moment, I am focusing on “Training for the New Alpinism.” While it’s written for Alpine climbers, it has a lot of good general training information that I think will also be very useful for my running, including strength and technique training as well as general aerobic training suggestions. 

Adding to that, I’m going to incorporate the general structure from The Cool Impossible, at least for the first 12 weeks or so (which would constitute the Transition and some of the Base period of the Training for the New Alpinism plan). As I recall, it worked really well for me last time, and I’m hoping it can do some of the same for me this time as well. I’m hoping that with a little more cross training, in the form of biking and climbing, and a little more strength training, in the form of general strength training and climbing, I will be able to get through this year without any more injuries. 

My goals remain generally the same for the coming year. I’d like to get more actual racing in this year, primarily at the half marathon and lower distances. I want to keep my primary goal as the Border Route Trail, sometime in either the spring or the fall. Added to that, I definitely want to add in more self-propelled adventuring, now that I have a sweet bike that I had custom built. I would like to use that on my planned ascent (and subsequent descent) of Eagle Mountain in northern MN. 

At this point, I’m still a little discouraged, and I still go out on each run worried that my right leg might act up again. But I’m feeling more and more hopeful as the days go by and I don’t get the same seizing sensation that I got previously. There might just be hope for me yet. 

Summer Running

It has been a decidedly up and down summer of running for me. 

I kept mostly to a low-heart rate training plan for much of June and July, gradually adding in some more intense efforts as my training progressed. During a family vacation at the beginning of the month, which corresponded to a low-mileage week (by design). After the down week, I jumped straight back into it, running 41, 37, and 42 miles over the next several weeks as I tried to ramp my training up for the 50 miler in September. And it felt pretty good over all. 

The next week, however, I was out in Pittsburgh for my job. I had run twice the Saturday before, totally 21 miles with a 13 mile night run, but was feeling pretty solid over all. I had a slight twinge in my right leg (ankle and glute) that I was hoping would shake itself out with an easy run on Monday. This twinge had first started a couple weeks before after a 9 mile hard effort in Duluth. 

Unfortunately, though I managed over 20 miles in the course of my three runs in Pittsburgh, the twinge just got worse and, on what was planned to be a 20 miler the Sunday after, I quit after a mile and a half. 

This past week I have not run at all.

My belief is that this stems from the ankle I severely tweaked in the Superior 25k this spring, and subsequently did not n any way rest or allow to heal. I've heard before of this sort of issue causing misfiring in the glute as well. So this past week I have been focusing on rolling out my legs, doing low-impact strength work, and generally taking it far easier than I have been. I'm hoping that, with a week's rest, I can return to training over the course of a week. 

I'm somewhat wondering if I want to. 

I love running, and I love racing, and I fully intend to keep doing both. But I think I've focused to much on training for races, and not enough on running the way I like to: freely  and for the joy of it. This was easier to do in Colorado, because I could just run up and down a mountain (something I dearly love to do) and that would double as training. 

I think I need to find something similar that I love to do while running here. Even if that means (gasp) running lower mileage over all. I think I will be better for it. I also want to mix in other types of movement with my running. I've been doing that somewhat, stopping to do pullups and other exercises during my runs. I think I need to take it a step farther: driving to the river if necessary and playing down in the woods. I have been doing a little more climbing lately, and hope to continue that. I think if I find the joy I have in movement again, and mix that into my running, I will be better off than I am now, simply running to get the miles in (even if I still enjoy it).

Three Solid Weeks (And I need to take more pictures)

Let me start by saying that I am tired. 

The last three weeks have been as solid as I could ask for, punctuated by three separate, excellent longer runs. I’ve stuck entirely to not eating carbohydrates before I run. I have also stuck for the most part to 180-age heart rate according to what is being called the Maffetone method. I’ve let myself off the leash, so to speak, four total times in the past three weeks, and I think I’m seeing good results. 

Two weeks ago on Saturday, I had what is probably my best run since moving to Minnesota at Afton state park. Roughly 30 seconds after I started running, the skies opened up and the rain came pouring down. Within a minute, I was soaked to the skin, grinning like and idiot, and, though my legs had felt a bit heavy just seconds before, I knew it was going to be a great run. 

I didn’t push the pace at first, but I felt good enough that the miles seemed to flow from one to the next as the rain waxed and waned. But after completing the north section (10.5 miles or so) of the 25k loop I’d planned for the day, I still felt good, so kicked it up a couple notches for the flats along the train grade along the river. I must have really cruised, because despite the minor inconvenience of a downed tree across the trail, I still managed fourth overall on the section. 

Still feeling good, I pushed up and over the Meat Grinder and onto the snowshoe loop. I didn’t quite PR for the entire loop, but since I didn’t push the pace for most of it, I feel pretty good about it. 

The following week it got hot. Sticking to the 148 heart rate was difficult, and required an extreme drop of the ego, but I managed it, and on nine straight days of running felt good going into the weekend. 

Friday night was stormy and rainy, so I ran on the bike paths around the River Gorge Loop on Saturday, running one at a quick pace, and the second at an even faster one. Despite 75 degree temperatures with 75% humidity (ow), I ended with 5.5 miles in 38 minutes. It felt fast, but not painfully so. 

Following that up on Sunday, I ran 10k in Battle Creek, attacking the uphills and relaxing the rest of the time. This park is an entirely different place in the summer, with lush prairie grasses almost overcoming the trail at many points. That little detail led to a certain paranoia regarding the number of ticks I was sure I was picking up. Even so, it was a gorgeous site, with early summer wildflowers in full bloom. I caught one young buck deer less than ten feet from me, hidden up to the neck in tall grasses. At my feet, I kept getting little flashes of brown and black as what I assume were shrews or voles dashed across the trail in front of me. All in all, a second excellent run for the weekend, and all the better training for taking place on tired legs. 

Another consistent week of training, and heat adaptation, followed. I took Monday off, but ran seven on Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday, and 5.5 on Friday for a good total heading into the weekend. Saturday I headed out to Afton again, hoping for a solid, three hour run, picking up the effort a bit on the hills again. 

But this run had a twist: I wanted to run without gels. To replace that, I had exactly 1.25 ounces of beef jerky. 

Added to the top of that, it was hot. 

I opted to run the north half of the 25k loop twice, or near to, seeing where I was when I reached the bridge over the campground trail (if you don’t know the route, this is probably confusing, but if you’re a trail runner in the Twin Cities, you probably get what I’m talking about). From there, I’d see where I was time wise and either head up the campground loop or shortcut to the car. 

The first loop around went really well, all told. I felt powerful on the uphills, quick and relaxed on the flats, and smooth on the downhills. Before I knew it, I had cruised up to the top of the campground loop and was filling my water bottles. As a side note, I highly recommend the new Body Bottles + (a Hydroflask product) sold by Ultimate Direction as a complement to their vests. The big mouths make filling them easy, they fit well in the vests, and they are much more comfortable than the normal bottles. I was a little concerned about how easy or difficult it would be to get them in and out of the front pockets, but it turned out to be very easy. 

At this point, my watch usually shows about 10 miles. I had discovered that morning that packing the night before works really well, as long as you remember to pack EVERYTHING the night before. I had forgotten to pack my watch, so was relying on my phone. At this point, it said 9.5 miles gone. I am pretty sure the watch is more accurate, or at least I’ve used it there more times and it is pretty consistent. 

Nevertheless, having filled my bottles and wetted down my cap, I took off again for my second loop. Somewhere in the trout brook loop, I briefly felt a little off, but miraculously a few bites of beef jerky seemed to do the trick, and I continued to feel good all the way down, and then up, the dirt road and over the hump. 

In fact, I felt good the whole day. While I could feel the fatigue set in, this being after all my longest run since the Icebox race, I never felt horrible. And though I didn’t get in a second campground loop, at the end of the run my phone said 18.7 miles and 2:56. With the fudge factor, I’d give it 19-19.5 miles, for a very solid three hour trail run. 

That, I picked up my brother at MSP and opted to spend time with him instead of taking a follow-up run today. While that would have pushed my weekly mileage over 50 for the first time in a while, spending time with my family is always solidly more important than any single run to me. 

Now What?

(Note: I started writing this a week after the Superior 25k, and finished it much more recently)

With the Superior 25k over and done with, I actually have very little on the horizon in terms of racing. I have the Warrior Dash on July 11, and the Superior 50 mile on September 12, and that’s all at the moment. I have my sights on the Border Route Trail still, as well as Eagle Mountain. 

So what now? 

Back to base period, I think. 

50 and 65 miles are so much farther than I’ve ever run before (15 and 30 miles farther, to be precise) that I need a strategy to cope with it. 

Changing tacks a little bit, I’ve seen quite a bit of research and writing lately on training your body to more efficiently burn fat. There are a number of strategies for this, ranging from the mild, and likely less effective, to the extreme (and nearly impossible). 

At its simplest, you simply make sure that your heart rate stays low throughout your whole run. The usual formula for this is 180bpm minus your age. For most people, this also requires a significant ego-check, as it often requires walking up hills, and a significant reduction in overall pace. 

Chris McDougall, in his newest book “Natural Born Heroes,” suggests a much more extreme method, put forward by Phil Maffetone. This method requires you taking carbohydrates out of your diet entirely (or as much as is possible) for two weeks, while keeping to the 180-age heart rate method. This is intended to reset your body’s desire for carbohydrates while simultaneously improving its ability to metabolize fat for fuel while running. 

I chose to take a middle of the road approach. I run in the morning, so rather than taking carbohydrates out of my diet entirely, I simply do not eat any before I run in the morning. Supposedly, this should start me in a carbohydrate-depleted state, allowing my body to more immediately switch to fat-burning. 

Let me tell you, this is hard. Not in the sense that it’s difficult physically, rather it is really important to stick to that target heart rate maximum. For me, that’s 148. Supposedly, since I’ve been training regularly for more than 2 years and am improving my PRs still, I have a 5 bpm fudge factor. To be certain I’m not tapping into any carbohydrate fuel, though, I have been staying below 148. 

This has required me to drop my pace a bit (not as much as I had feared, but still significant). This is particularly true now that it’s getting hot again, with the corresponding increase in heart rate that implies. Sometimes I find it hard to keep the heart rate low enough even on flat, paved stretches. And I have been required to set aside my ego, both on the run when people pass me who might not normally do so, and afterwards on Strava. 

I am not sure if this is working yet. I fell off the bandwagon a bit when I did not bring my HRM on a trip with me. I may alter this somewhat, shifting it to one “cheating” anaerobic workout each week (hills alternating with speedwork, perhaps). But I can say one thing: my recovery from the Superior 25k was better than after any other race I’ve run. After a decade or so of longer races, I have finally found a recovery method that works for me.

Superior Spring 25k: Race Report

After my last race I opted to do a short, sweet race report, focusing on impressions rather than the overall race. This time, I want to go back to a bit of a more traditional format. 

Going into the race, I was pretty uncertain of how I would feel. I had fallen ill that week after helping my parents start their move (out of a house they’ve lived in for 37 years!). That had involved carrying boxes down, I would estimate, 400-500 total flights of stairs over two days. Talk about an eccentric muscle strength workout! 

After the camping experience, or fiasco depending on your perspective, of last year, we opted to stay in an actual hotel before and after this year’s race. We got in at 10:30 the night before and, after a couple false starts (it gets light really early up North) I woke up, hacked up a nice, neon ball of phlegm, and was out the door by 7:40 and at the start by 7:50. Again, much nicer than last year. 9AM starts are glorious.

The centerpiece of the race, Lake Superior, decided not to make much of an appearance this year. The lake was shrouded in a veil of fog all morning, to the extent that, if you didn’t know better, you might not know there was a lake at all. The weather on the course, on the other hand, was sunny and 50 degrees: perfect running weather. 

The various check-in requirements and pre-race rituals completed, I gathered at the front of the pack for the start, and the ritual reading of “the names of people who didn’t check in this morning.” There didn’t seem to be many people eager to start out at the front, leaving a pack of 6 or so to lead the race up the road. 

After last year, I had my strategy down: ease into the uphills, coast the “flats,” and slay the downhills Colorado-style. I chatted briefly with the eventual 1-2 men before letting them take off up the trail, vaulted onto the rock before ducking under the always-amusing “Bridge Out” sign, and turned uphill. 

Per my strategy, I kept it easy on the climb up Mystery this year, letting people pass me knowing that I would most likely catch them later. Sure enough, I dogged their heels on the relative flats on Mystery, and flew by them down the hill to the saddle, where the worst of the mud flats were the prior year. 

Moose Mountain, with Mystery to the right, from the top of the Alpine Slide

With less snowfall this year, I was hoping these would be in better, faster shape this year. No such luck. If anything, they seemed worse than last year. I knew immediately that there was no staying dry this year, and simply plunged into the muck (later drawing comments on just how muddy I was). 

On the climb up Moose, I stayed with other runners a bit more, still letting them pass me, but then staying on their tail as they continued up one of the two steepest climbs on the course. Sticking behind the second woman and one other Open Men runner, I let the lead woman and another guy get a little too far ahead. This is the one of two places I made a definite mistake. I should have passed the first two on the slight downhills. 

Even so, I again caught up and passed the two in front of me on the screaming descent off Moose, my best descent of the day by far, and caught up to the second pair by the Onion River Crossing. I eventually passed them prior to the aid station, which I tore through at sub-6 minute pace (according to my watch, which I would only look at later). Out time was 1:03:54, well within my targets of 1:05 and 1:10. 

My goal was to negative split. Still feeling good, I thought it would be possible. Coming down towards the Onion again, I put my foot down in a mud puddle only to have it hit a rock and twist outwards, tweaking my ankle. 

It hurt, but not too terribly, and I knew I would have no trouble finishing the race. It did, however, take away my downhilling possibilities for the rest of the race, and the time I took to cinch down my shoelaces let two people (the lead woman and a guy from Gustavus Nordic who I would trade places with at least 5 times over the course of the race). 

I ran gingerly for the remainder of the descent to the Onion River, letting my ankle complain and stiffen up again, knowing from the cheers of oncoming runners that I was still well within striking distance of the two who had passed me. Sadly, on the march up Moose Mountain, with my ankle still tender (as it would remain) another runner overtook me. 

The remainder of the race was a sufferfest. Despite my ankle, I managed to catch Gustavus on the way down Moose, only to lose that place to him when I slipped on a board and ended up with my right arm shoulder-deep in mud. The boards, dry on the way out, were now so mud-covered that they were almost more treacherous than the mud itself. 

The slog up Mystery saw one more runner pass me, but I caught her again on the road to the finish. 

The road section went well. I wanted to hit sub-7 minute pace, and did so. The whole way, though, I kept glancing back to see a runner in red catching me. At the last, slight jog uphill, 200m before the finish, he was right on my shoulder, threatening to nip me at the line. 

I was a sprinter in high school, and still have that leg speed. It took running that last bit at sub-5, but I fended him off, collapsing over the line only to glance up and see that he wasn’t even in my race. 

He nabbed second in the 50k . . . 

All in all, though, I think I executed well in this race. Being sick, with my legs still sore from Monday’s moving, I could have thrown in the towel and just run for fun. Instead, I dug deep, and despite a major spill and a twisted ankle held on for 8th place overall (2:13:51, for a 1:10 second half), hitting my B goal of under 2:15 in the process. Experience counts, and honestly I probably don’t have as much racing experience as many, but I improve with every race. 

The remainder of the weekend was spent exploring the North Shore, eating a glorious dinner at the Angry Trout in Grand Marais (along with seemingly half the other runners from that morning), and touring my parents’ new house on Sunday. 

Post-race lunch with a view.

Cascade River mouth.

Split Rock. There's a lighthouse there. (Sunday)

All in all, a most excellent weekend. 

Training Update

Since the Zumbro 17, which went remarkably well, my training has gone through its ups and downs.

The week directly after Zumbro, I tried to get a solid training week in. This included a 25k loop out at Afton a week after the race. While my legs felt ok, I could tell already that I needed to allow them a little more recovery time. Having put in 34 miles the week after Zumbro, I put in a much more reasonable (for me) 25 miles the week after.

I have also gotten better at my strength training. Partially, this is due to reading "Natural Born Heroes," Chris McDougall's latest book.  His second offering does not flow nearly as well as his first: I find it jumps around at odd places. "Born to Run" did a little bit of this as well, but that flowed more naturally to me. That the first book flowed more naturally than the second I find amusing, since the second is all about natural movement.

Segue aside, the book has re-invigorated my interest in Parkour and Freerunning, sports I have been involved in previously, but let slide since moving to Minnesota due to 1) the cold weather and 2) the fact that the only training gym in the area is inconveniently-located for us. What I forgot, of course, is that Parkour is all about using what you have around you in new ways. I discovered that the stone wall and columns outside my front door are excellent places to work on climb-ups and cat hangs. I do burpees and vaults on my back patio area, and am seriously considering building myself a vault box so I can further explore movement.

(If you don't understand any of that, look up the terms on youtube, there are ample videos out there).

In any case, after the rest week and some strength training, I started to feel a bit more like my running self again. The final week in April, I ran 44 miles, including a 17 mile long run on Sunday.

Regretfully, with the forecast for thunderstorms and rain during the run, I neglected to bring my phone or camera on my run with me on Sunday. I say "regretfully" because it was a stunningly gorgeous day. The spring wildflowers are out in full force in the Minnesota woods, and this particular day, blue flowers blanketed the forest floor, still open to the sunlight as the trees have not yet produced their leaves.

For a little while, I ran along a small creek, murmuring at me to take its picture when I stopped at a bench to tie my shoe.

I nearly slapped myself in the face when I came across a deer skull with a patch of flowers growing around and through it.

Let that be a lesson to me, I guess, that I should always pack a sandwich bag so that, regardless of the weather forecast, I can take pictures of beautiful scenery.

For your edification: some videos related to the above: the first is one of my favorite videos of the genre, the second is mentioned in the book "Natural Born Heroes."

Downhill Running

I have run several technical trail races in the Upper Midwest now, and at each of them, other runners have said the same thing:

“I don’t know how you take the downhills that fast.” 

After getting an explicit question on this on my last post about Zumbro, I got to thinking more about it. There are any number of lists at tips out there about downhill running. Indeed, any trail running book you pick up will probably have tips on how to run downhill. Hal Koerner’s “Field Guide to Ultrarunning” has a number of good tips. I want to take a different tactic here. 

Downhills are inherently important in any trail race with significant elevation change. In fact, recent research on ultramarathons suggests that the muscles in downhill running are the ones that are the most affected by an ultra. I myself have found that, while I’m an average uphiller in Minnesota, I am considered an excellent downhiller, often making up  more time on the downhill than I lose to other runners on the uphill.     

So here are my tips: 

1. Practice: this should be self-explanatory. If you want to get good at running downhills, run downhill. While I lived in Colorado, this was unavoidable. A general run consisted of running up a mountain, then back down it. Longer runs included more mountains. Here in Minnesota, I have to be a bit more deliberate about it. I have found a few courses in the Twin Cities area that feature longish hills. Rather than simply do hill repeats up a hill, I’ll do them up and down. This either results in a tempo run, or running for a rest break at the top or bottom before doing another up/down or down/up repeat. If nothing else, do this. 
2. Look ahead: focus on a spot a few meters ahead of you. Don’t worry so much about the ground right in front of your feet. Look farther ahead, and route yourself accordingly. After some practice, you will get to the point where your legs and feet naturally adapt to the terrain they hit. Trust them, and let them.
3. Relax: many people tense up on the downhills. This just makes it harder to react to the terrain, and takes more effort than staying relaxed. Staying relaxed also makes it much less likely that you will injure yourself if you do take the fall. 
4. Flow: when I get into a good groove on the downhill, I like to compare it to a dance. It’s a great feeling, with your feet just barely touching the ground, dancing across rocks that shift under your feet and flying over gaps. I’m not alone in this: Kilian Jornet says the same thing. 
5. Enjoy : learn to love the downhills. As I said above, there’s nothing as much fun (to me) as flying smoothly down rough terrain, and the accompanying gasps from the people you past. 

If you get the chance, look up some of the great downhillers. Kilian and Anton Krupicka are both excellent. For a time, there was a clip of Kilian going down Grand Swamp Pass during his Hardrock performance last year that was an astounding example of all the above. Here are a couple examples: 

This is a bit shaky, since Kilian is holding the camera. But from 4:20 on you get a bit of an idea.

Here's one at the Pikes Peak Marathon. I was actually in this race, though Kilian was far ahead of me. I ended up in 59th place, rather disappointed since my training partners had come in 9th and 19th, but I did the best I could on that day.